


extraordinary ways

by distantgreen



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, akashit, did I fucking stutter, ratings vary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantgreen/pseuds/distantgreen
Summary: Random assortment of KnB drabbles. Ratings are variable, so I've labelled them in each chapter title.4. MuraHimu - days [G]5. MidoTaka - thunderstorm [E]6. MayuAka - Schneekönigin [T]7. MayuAka - arcade [T]8. MidoTaka - arcanum [G]





	1. MidoTaka - winter [G]

“Ah- _choo!_ ”

It’s the fifth time this evening that Takao sneezes, and Midorima looks up from where he’s sitting on his bed with a textbook, peering at the point guard over the top of his glasses.

“Takao,” he says, brows slightly furrowed. “What is wrong?”

“I’m freezing!” Takao responds, staring back fornlornly from his seat on the floor. “Your family keeps it way too cold in this house, it feels like I’m sitting outside.”

Midorima just rolls his eyes. “It is not this cold outside.”

“Very close,” Takao insists, and he hugs his own notebook to his chest, as if its flimsy pages might provide some sort of warmth.

Midorima sighs at the desperate display and gets up, making his way to his desk chair, which has a neatly folded green blanket draped across its back. He picks it up and walks over to Takao, where he shakes it out gingerly and drops it on the smaller boy’s shoulders.

“Shin-chan, this is-”

“My lucky item for the day, yes,” Midorima says, adjusting his glasses as he settles in front of his book again.

Takao stares at him, mouth partly open as if he wants to say something, before closing it and grinning instead. He crawls across the floor and into the bed, scooting along its length until he’s next to Midorima, where he turns to sit back-to-back with him, tightly cocooned in green fabric.

“Your sneezing was too distracting,” Midorima mutters, and Takao catches the hint of defensiveness in his tone.

He laughs and leans his head back, nestling it against the taller boy’s shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep like this,” Midorima warns, but Takao’s eyes are already sliding shut, drowsy from his newfound warmth.

“But I’m quietest that way,” he mumbles, and Midorima has nothing to say to that.


	2. MayuAka - Comiket [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor, poor Mayuzumi

As Mayuzumi weaves his way through the throngs of people surrounding him, he adds today to the list of occasions where he has found himself grateful for his lack of presence.

It’s not like he’s embarrassed. At school he goes to the rooftop to avoid interruptions, not because he cares if he’s seen carrying around light novels. So if someone from Rakuzan were to recognize him now, it’s not like he would be ashamed to be caught walking around Comiket. He would just rather not deal with the recognition and familiarity; the last thing he needs is someone deciding they’re “friends” just because they both happened to attend at the same time.

He stops for a moment, and he’s so caught up in admiring some Clockwork Apple dakimakura that he fails to notice the red head of hair heading towards him from the opposite direction until it’s far too close. He looks away from the pillows, reaching for his wallet, when his eyes widen at the sight of red and gold steadily approaching. _  
_

_Oh hell no._

Mayuzumi immediately turns on his heel and heads back through the aisle.

Akashi Seijuurou should not be here.

Akashi Seijuurou would not stoop to participate in such an activity.

There is only one possible explanation for why Akashi Seijuurou has followed him here all the way from Kyoto, and that is his insatiable need to make Mayuzumi’s life as agonizing as possible, apparently both on _and_ off the court.

He’s not even paying attention to where he’s going at his point, just wandering quickly down one of the long aisles in the hall, moving well out of Clockwork Apple territory. He ducks into a side aisle and stops; it’s still early enough in the morning that the hall is quite packed, so there is some small chance he might have lost Akashi.

“I didn’t realize you were into _this_ , Chihiro,” a voice says from slightly below him and to his left.

He groans quietly and turns to snap something, anything, at his infuriating excuse of a captain, but his breath catches when he realizes where they’ve come to a stop. _  
_

_Sports_.

Beautifully-drawn teenage boys in various sporting uniforms are staring at them from every direction, and Mayuzumi grows a little paler than usual.

“This isn’t,” he manages, voice tight. Akashi is looking around with detached curiosity, as if examining some exotic exhibit at the zoo. “Why are you here, anyway?” he demands.

Akashi turns back and blinks up at the taller boy.

“Am I not permitted to join you in activities outside of school business?”

Mayuzumi’s eyes narrow.

“I didn’t ask for company,” he says, still eyeing Akashi suspiciously. “You are only here to accumulate ammunition that you may later abuse when we’re at practice.”

“Well if that’s the case,” Akashi replies, eyes glinting knowingly, “it seems you’ve provided me with quite enough for the day.” His gaze drifts to a nearby table, where two basketball players are wrapped tightly in each other’s arms on the artist’s promotional poster.

Mayuzumi can feel his face growing warm, and he wishes this were anyone but Akashi, so that he could just turn and disappear into the crowd.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “It’s your fault we’re over here.” He hesitates, adjusting the bag that already weighs heavily against his shoulder. “I’m going back to shopping,” he says finally, because he knows that if Akashi wants to come, he’ll come regardless.

Akashi smiles pleasantly and falls into step next to Mayuzumi.

“Come,” he says, patting Mayuzumi lightly on the shoulder, “let’s find you some waifus.”


	3. ImaAo - summer [G]

It’s one game that Aomine never wins.

He’s got Imayoshi pinned beneath him on the ground, because he’s stronger and he can hold him this way, but all of that strength doesn’t even matter because he can see the laughter behind the glasses. Even when he wins, he loses, because it’s always on Imayoshi’s terms, he can feel it. The hair prickles on the back of his neck every time; everything’s a setup with Imayoshi, everything runs according to his plans.

It’s a frustrating feeling, and Aomine tells himself that he hates it (but not so much that he would ever stop trying).

They buy ice cream, because it’s summer and they’re on the beach and Aomine insists in spite of Imayoshi’s protests about athletes and dietary considerations. He thinks this is fine, finally, something he wants not spiraling wildly out of control, until Imayoshi’s ice cream starts melting and drips its way down his pale, bare abdomen in the middle of a very public space where Aomine can do nothing but frown in annoyance as Imayoshi laughs and wipes it away, licking it from his fingers with a smirk.

Imayoshi never gloats, because victory alone is enough.

Occasionally, they play basketball alone together on those warm nights, and here, at least, Aomine knows how to win. There are no subtleties to be preyed upon, only two cold, rigid numbers to compare, and he looks back at Imayoshi with a thrilled sort of relief when they’re done, hoping to finally see a defeat for what it is.

Imayoshi’s staring at him intently, eyes glinting with approval and desire, and Aomine snaps, because that’s not how this is supposed to go; he rushes to the older boy, pinning him against the court’s fence in frustration, growling even as he steals a kiss.

He feels Imayoshi laugh into his mouth and he realizes that this battle, too, is already lost.


	4. MuraHimu - days [G]

Some days are better, with Atsushi, and some are worse.

Himuro can see it on the tip of Atsushi’s tongue, sometimes, on those bad days – _what’s the point, Muro-chin?_ – so he just presses a hand to the small of Atsushi’s back when no one is looking. It’s a brief touch, but it’s enough, and although Atsushi’s gaze is still distant, the ball in his hands seems to wake him up a bit.

He plays (well, Himuro notes, very well in spite of everything), and Himuro smiles at him from across the court. There’s no visible response, but he knows Atsushi sees him, because Atsushi has this uncanny ability to see the subtleties in Himuro, things that he sometimes doesn’t even notice about himself.

“Muro-chin looks sad.”

Himuro looks up on the train, startled out of his thoughts; they’d just met Taiga in the streets, and his fingers are idly tracing the chain around his neck.

“Let’s get some pastries.”

It would sound selfish to anyone else’s ears, like Atsushi just wants an excuse to get more food, but Himuro knows what he really means – _that weight looks too heavy for you_ – so Himuro wraps his hand around the taller boy’s as they get off at the next stop, searching for somewhere to eat.

The next morning, Atsushi turns his head against the pillow to watch Himuro as he dresses, one long arm dangling loosely off the side of the bed.

Himuro sees it in his eyes – _let’s just stay here today_ – and his heart aches, because he understands, and he wants, but he’s already wrapping his tie around his neck, so he just leans down and places a kiss on Atsushi’s head.

There’s a sigh, and Atsushi doesn’t budge, but Himuro knows it’s best to leave him to do things on his own time. He goes to make breakfast, and he exhales when he eventually hears the sounds of Atsushi shuffling around in the other room.

It’s not the best day for either of them, Himuro thinks, watching Atsushi stuff sausages into his mouth, but it certainly isn’t the worst.


	5. MidoTaka - thunderstorm [E]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note overall rating change. Individual chapters are labelled accordingly.

“Shin-chan.” Takao trembles as Midorima’s fingers move inside of him. “ _Please_.”

Takao whines, so unreserved and so needy, glancing desperately over his shoulder at his partner, and something in Midorima snaps.

His expression changes (like a thunderstorm across the grasslands, Takao thinks hazily), and suddenly the point guard finds himself being flipped over and thrown onto his back on the bed, Midorima parting his legs and pushing them up towards his chest. His eyes – Takao couldn’t look away if he tried – burn straight into Takao’s own, viridian fire flooding through his body as Midorima pushes into him.

And then Midorima _moves_ , fucking him down into the bed, the creaking of the mattress forming a backdrop for Takao’s voice as he gasps out a staccato string of syllables, a series of broken “Shin-chan”s and “Shintarou”s. The pace is brutal and Midorima’s breathing is heavy and the movements drive relentlessly into Takao, but Midorima continues, doesn’t falter once, not until Takao’s cock releases all over his twitching abdomen and he feels a familiar warm wetness as Midorima pulls out of him a few moments later.

By the time Takao’s vision refocuses and the cry echoing in his ears passes (which must have been his own, he realizes), Midorima is already meticulously cleaning the mess off of Takao’s body with a towel. The storm is gone, just calm grass whispering in its wake, and Midorima tosses the towel aside, dropping next to Takao with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “That was...” he trails off, unable to finish the sentence, and runs a hand across his face.

There’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks, and when Takao meets his gaze, he looks away and starts reaching for his glasses to hide his embarrassment. Takao’s hand moves immediately, intercepting his arm, and he tangles his fingers with Midorima’s.

“Don’t,” Takao says firmly. He shifts his head, burying it against Midorima’s neck, and smiles into the warm space. “I liked that,” he adds, “so don’t.”

He can’t see it when Midorima’s blush deepens, but he feels the movement when the taller boy nods and runs his long, beautiful fingers through Takao’s sweaty black hair.


	6. MayuAka - Schneekönigin [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had this idea back during... actual wintertime..... but somehow I only wrote a few notes and never finished it until now, so here you go.

“I would advise against going that way.”  
  
“Why? It’s shorter. I’m in a hurry.”  
  
The blue-haired boy glances up, eyes as frigid as the snow that swirls angrily around him, gaze scanning across the sky.  
  
“Things, you know.”  
  
“No, I don’t know.”  
  
The boy looks back at him, blinks once, and shrugs. He says something, but the wind howls and devours the words even as they seep out from between his lips, so Mayuzumi just waves dismissively and heads off into the woods.  
  
–  
  
He hurries, because as much as he doesn’t understand the other boy’s worries, there is still a snowstorm raging about him, even if it is relatively mild for this time of year.  
  
He’s trudged through almost half an hour of it before there’s a sudden, angry roar of wind, and he actually has to lift his arm and cover his face momentarily to fend off the intensity of it.  
  
“Fuck,” he mutters into the sleeve of his coat, and when his arm drops, there’s a figure in front of him.  
  
Twin flames study him from a few meters away, lampposts burning alone amidst the cold and dark, and Mayuzumi swallows thickly.  
  
The road is narrow here, almost nonexistent, certainly not permitting him to go around this stranger who stands right in the center of the path, and he is in a _hurry_ , goddammit, because the wind is picking up again and he needs to get where he’s headed as quickly as he can.  
  
The redhead stares and says nothing.  
  
“Hey!” Mayuzumi hollers, not sure how well his voice will carry. “Move over, will you?”  
  
Silence, except for the incessant howling.  
  
Mayuzumi makes a low noise of displeasure and breathes heavily into his scarf, letting the breath warm up his face.  
  
“Look, I’m in a hurry. You probably need to be getting out of this storm, too, so let me by and we can both be on our way, yeah?”  
  
Still nothing.  
  
_Fuck my life_ , Mayuzumi thinks, temper shortening and eyes narrowing. He’d chosen to live in the ass-middle of nowhere just because of this, because of less people and less bullshit to deal with, and he very much minds having the sanctity broken by whoever this asshole is.  
  
He doesn’t have time for this, he can feel the storm closing in on them from all sides, so he settles his nerves and takes a step forward, ready to shove his way by with force if he has to.  
  
He makes it half a step before it hits – ice, exploding in a frosted bundle at the base of his spine and shooting up along his back faster than his brain can process the action. His vision blurs, and he’s doubled over, his body frantically trying to acclimate to the sudden intrusion but all he can think is _cold, cold, cold_ , and the redhead’s face swims blearily across his vision.  
  
“What in the _fuck_ ,” he gasps, regaining his composure slightly. The pain is diminishing, and he realizes with a certain apprehension that it’s only because his entire back is going numb.  
  
He glares up at the boy-shaped obstacle still blocking his path, because whatever this is must surely be coming from him.  
  
“What the hell is this?”  
  
The stranger’s eyes widen slightly, his focus on Mayuzumi intensifying, and he finally speaks. His voice is so quiet, Mayuzumi is surprised at how clearly he can hear it through the storm.  
  
“Fascinating. You may be the most naturally contrary creature I have ever met.”  
  
“Thank you?” Mayuzumi says incredulously, grimacing as he straightens and rubs a hand along his back. “I am so flattered.”  
  
His companion doesn’t say anything in response, but suddenly the cold retreats, burned away from his body as quickly as it had come. Mayuzumi swears again, profanities howled into the wind, and shoots the redhead a nasty look.  
  
“Will you stop doing whatever the fuck that is?”  
  
Lips curve upwards into a hint of a smile.  
  
“But I am finished.”  
  
A gust of rage and blinding whiteness, and Mayuzumi is once more forced to cover his face. He’s not even remotely surprised to find the stranger gone when he looks up again, so he tries to shove the entire crazy incident to the back of his mind and continues his trek through the woods.  
  
And if the storm seems to mysteriously lighten up until he reaches his destination, he doesn’t stop to question why that might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Der Kristall steckt tief im Herzen_  
>  _Das nur schlägt für meine Schneekönigin_  
>  -[Subway to Sally](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iY6BOGNHfJk)


	7. MayuAka - arcade [T]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For KNB Discord Team Battle.

“For fuck’s sake,” a voice huffs from behind the counter as the lights on the machine erupt in an enthusiastic display of congratulations for the second time that night. “He must be cheating.”

A long-suffering sigh turns Mayuzumi’s attention to his coworker, currently chewing slowly through a piece of Pocky.

“Dude,” he rolls his eyes and removes the stick from his mouth, his next set of words coming out more clearly, “it's pinball. How would he be cheating?”

Mayuzumi frowns. “You keep picking up shitty dieting habits from someone, don't expect me to look after your sorry ass when you drop in the middle of a shift.”

Himuro just laughs, grabbing another piece from his package. “Fuck off,” he croons around the snack in his mouth, and Mayuzumi wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“And I don't know how he's cheating, but he's been breaking our high scores every night for the past four days, so maybe there's some exploit he's abusing.”

Himuro tries to contain bits of Pocky from going everywhere as he laughs again.

“Just go already.”

“Go what?” Mayuzumi demands, scooting further down the counter and away from Himuro’s mess. “That's so gross. You’re awful, and your friends are awful.”

“Go get his number,” Himuro explains, ignoring the insults.

“I don't want his number,” Mayuzumi mutters indignantly.

“I can ask him for you, if you're nervous. He does look a little intimidating, especially with that red hair.”

“Oh my god,” Mayuzumi snaps, pushing away from the counter. “I'm going to check it out.”

“Like you weren't already doing that,” Himuro calls after him, and Mayuzumi flips him off as he wades his way into the sea of blips and blinking lights.

Their mystery customer is finishing another game as Mayuzumi approaches, and he waits for the flash of colors to calm down, prompting the player for their initials.

ABS.

“I'm not cheating,” the boy says suddenly, turning to face Mayuzumi. He must have looked surprised, surely they had been too far away for anyone to overhear, because the stranger continues.

“Everyone assumes I'm cheating,” he explains. “This isn't the first arcade I've touched in this city.”

“Did they all throw you out?”

“Are you throwing me out?” The redhead’s eyes scan across Mayuzumi’s nametag. “Chihiro.”

Mayuzumi frowns. “You're alarmingly good at this.”

The boy raises an eyebrow, and Mayuzumi rolls his eyes. “The _pinball_.”

“I've developed good reflexes. We have several machines at home.”

_Rich brat_ , bubbles to the tip of Mayuzumi’s tongue, but he holds it there.

“Why do you bother playing here if you have them at home?”

“What, pray tell,” says the other boy, quietly drumming his fingertips against the glass cover of the pinball machine, “is the point of being good at something if no one ever acknowledges you?”

Mayuzumi sighs.

“Okay, well,” he waves absently with one hand, turning to head back towards the front of the arcade, “have fun showing off.”

“You're not going to ask me to leave?”

“If you leave, you'll go elsewhere,” Mayuzumi says grudgingly, “and that's business for a competitor rather than us.”

“How very prudent of you,” the redhead muses. “When is your shift over, Chihiro?”

“Excuse me?”

The shorter boy smiles patiently. “I don't think I stuttered. When is your shift over?”

“Midnight,” Mayuzumi says warily.

“Perfect,” the redhead replies, looking pleased. “I'll see you then.” Mayuzumi just stares, baffled, but the boy is already turned back to the machine, slotting in more coins for another game, so he gives up and returns quietly to the front.

He doesn’t say anything to Himuro, but the other boy doesn’t stop smiling knowingly around his food.


	8. MidoTaka - arcanum [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday, Shin-chan!

“This way, sir.”  
  
The wooden door creaks open, breaking the still quiet of the morning, and Takao glances up from his book as two figures walk through the entry. The robed library assistant, he recognizes, but the knight with him is taller and far more imposing than anything he is accustomed to seeing in the Observatorium. Heavily armored in a full suit and helmet, he draws his visor back as he enters the stone-walled enclosure of a room, lit only by a handful of candles and too dim even in the daylight hours. The guest’s gaze flickers curiously around the space, and Takao matches the gesture, scanning over the man’s gear until his eyes pause on the weapon strapped across his back, widening at the sight of the spear.  
  
“A dragoon?” he inquires, closing his book and rising from his seat. “What brings a dragoon here?”  
  
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the assistant whispers hastily. “There is a small company passing through on their way back to the capital. They are resting here for the day for a break and provisions, and this man was curious to see the Observatorium.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
The stranger is still standing just inside the door, looking around with great interest, but fixed firmly in his place by all of the formality and stiffness that Takao would expect from a knight of the Holy See.  
  
“What’s your name?” Takao asks, blunt and not the least bit intimidated, as he moves to stand before the armored tree of a man. He can hear the assistant draw in a breath behind him, but he doesn’t flinch.  
  
The dragoon’s gaze lowers slowly, meeting Takao’s eyes, before giving his response.  
  
“Midorima Shintarou.”  
  
“Midorima,” Takao repeats, wrinkling his features slightly. “Too stuffy. What can we do for you here, Shin-chan?”  
  
The assistant chokes somewhere in the far recesses of the room, and Midorima’s eyes widen at the new designation.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Shin-chan,” Takao says slowly. “What brings you to our humble Observatorium?”  
  
He can’t quite tell with the helmet that still obscures much of the knight’s face, but Takao swears he sees a reddish tint darken the fair skin before Midorima answers.  
  
“I wanted to see the workspace of the astrologians,” he elaborates. “Your divinations are the first line of defense against the dragon lords. I was curious to see your means, and to express my gratitude for your work.”  
  
“Is that so!” Excitement gushes from Takao’s features, and he crosses the room in a few quick strides, plucking a star globe from a shelf near the cowering assistant, who immediately grasps Takao’s intent and scurries away up the nearest staircase as quickly as he can manage. “Then perhaps you’d care for a demonstration?” Takao returns to the guest and rearranges some books on a nearby table, making room for the device. Midorima still stands in his original position, looking with hesitation at the arrangement.  
  
“Is this permitted?” he asks cautiously.  
  
Takao snorts. “Is what permitted? You know, we’re not obligated to use these solely at the Holy See’s behest. If you want to see, come here.”  
  
The dragoon moves, finally, settling himself carefully in a sitting position across from Takao. Several concentric rings arranged within each other form the structure of the globe, their surfaces carved with intricate symbols of the heavens. The astrologian’s hands hover over their surface, and within moments the pieces begin to move, rotating at first slowly and gradually picking up momentum as Takao watches over them. The device glows faintly, a bluish imitation of the heavens that wavers beneath Takao’s fingertips, and Midorima’s eyes watch intently as the light pulses with the flow of the fates.  
  
And then Takao’s hands suddenly drop, and the spinning stops with them, the light from the globe vanishing immediately. Midorima looks up, startled, as the device’s movements grind to a halt.  
  
“Is there a problem?” he asks, and his voice hides none of the trepidation that has suddenly seeped into his features. “What did you see?”  
  
Takao’s face is expressionless, staring unflinchingly at his guest, and Midorima rises from his seat.  
  
“If it’s an attack, you need to tell me immediately. My company can move-”  
  
Laughter breaks across his words, rolling against the apprehension, and the dragoon frowns in confusion.  
  
“Be at peace, good knight.” The astrologian smiles warmly, hands affectionately tracing over the silent, gilded surfaces of the star globe. “No wyrms will roar this day. It is the day of your birth, and your stars are far, far too lucky for that.”  
  
Midorima closes his eyes at the revelation, raising one armored hand to the side of his helmet, mimicking a gesture of rubbing at his temples, though currently impossible through the shielding of the metal.  
  
“That,” he says weakly, turning a stern gaze back to Takao. “That’s what you saw?”  
  
The astrologian grins, heavens flashing in his eyes, and he scoops up the star globe to return it to its place without any further answer.  
  
“Are you satisfied?” he asks, returning to the dragoon once the item has been safely stored away. “Are our means sufficient?”  
  
The knight stares for a moment, considering, before a tiny smile tugs at the firmness of his features.  
  
“Yes. I believe they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> setting completely and shamelessly lifted from FFXIV, I have nothing to say for myself


End file.
